


I See Colors When I Hear Your Voice

by totheletter



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, San Francisco Giants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheletter/pseuds/totheletter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madison's trying to figure out if "Wit's End" is the color Posey is considering for the living room, or his current mental state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Colors When I Hear Your Voice

“Cliff Rock,” Madison said, a little testily. “It’s a porn name. How the hell is ‘cliff rock’ supposed to be a color?”

“Says the man who insisted on Catalina Fog in the guest room,” Buster replied. “Hold them up again. I didn’t get a good look.”

Bumgarner sighed and held the cards up in front of the white wall. Buster’s eyes shifted from one to the other. He sighed.

“I’m just not feeling it. Let’s see Mulling Spice again.”

Madison shot Posey a dirty look. He dropped one of the cards, stooped over to pick up another, and stood again.

“That’s Mountain Ridge, dear,” Posey said. “We agreed the Mountain Ridge would be better suited playing against the Cork in the bathroom.”

“I got a cork I’d like to use,” Bumgarner muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Mulling Spice, coming right up’!”

Buster rolled his eyes. “It’s our house, Bum. I want to get everything right before we move all the furniture in. The colors are a big deal.”

Bumgarner twisted his neck to relieve some tension, feeling and hearing the pops of his aching joints. “Is it just me, or are we getting gayer the longer we’re together?”

“It’s called gentrification,” Buster said. “Is that Mulling Spice? Maybe I meant Butter Rum. Here, let me –“

He began shuffling through the color palettes and booklets in his hand. Bumgarner weighed how much trouble he’d be in if he just strangled his partner and got it over with. The option looked better with each passing hour. The doorbell rang, startling both men.

“Now who could that…” Buster said.

“I’ll get it!” Bumgarner interjected.

He threw the paint cards to the floor and raced across the hardwood to the front door, throwing it open to find Matt Cain and Tim Lincecum.

“Hey, it’s Matt and Tim!” he called over his shoulder to Posey. “Matt and Tim! Tim and Matt! How are ya?”

“Please get me out of here,” he whispered.

Cain held up a familiar white paper bag. “We brought you guys some lunch.”

“In-N-Out,” Lincecum said. “We thought you might be hungry.”

“Lunch.” Madison seized one of the bags and went back into the living room, salivating. Cain and Lincecum slowly entered from the porch. “I…guess we can share what’s in the other bag,” Cain said.

Lincecum whistled appreciatively as he looked around the room. “Nice.”

“It’ll look better when we get the paint on the walls and get all the furniture in,” Posey said, whacking the back of Madison’s head with a color brochure as he walked by. Madison looked annoyed but continued stuffing his face.

“When are you moving in?” Lincecum asked.

“The movers are supposed to be here a week from Tuesday,” Posey said. “So I hope we’re in here to stay by Thursday or Friday.”

“I’m proud of you guys,” Cain said. “How’s it feel, joining the rest of us in mortgage purgatory?”

“Feels great,” Posey said. “I’m not gonna lie. It’s a little scary. But at the same time it feels really good. Like it’s exactly what’s supposed to be happening.”

“Germ of the nation,” Bumgarner said, swallowing a mouthful of chewed fries.

“Gentrification,” Posey said. “And it’s not that. It’s more like kismet.”

“Kiss Matt?” Lincecum said, smiling.

“Kismet,” Cain replied, jabbing an elbow into Tim’s side. “It means destiny. Something controlled by fate. And I think you’re right. I felt the same way when Chels and I bought the place in Noe Valley.”

Posey nodded. “Well, the bottomless pit over here has apparently decided we’re on lunch break, so why don’t we eat something, and then I’ll give you guys the grand tour?”

* * * * *

“…which brings us back to the living room. The sofa will go about there, and we'll have the bookshelves over against that wall, where the track lights will shine down on them.”

“Walls are pretty bare,” Matt said. “What colors to you plan to use in here?”

Bumgarner groaned. “Please don’t ask!”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Posey said. “We’re down to warm earth tones, maybe Mulling Spice or Butter Rum.”

“Mulling Spice?” Lincecum scrunched his nose in thought. “What’s ‘Mulling Spice’?”

“Thank you!” Madison said.

Posey put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Bum’s got an acute case of color fatigue.”

“It’s a nightmare, guys,” Bumgarner said. “Nothing makes any sense. Nothing’s ever orange, or blue, or white. It’s all, Rwanda and Tepid Glen and Running Bull and shit like that. What th’ fuck is any of _that_ supposed to mean? I thought Buster was puttin’ me on when he started talking about these paint colors. Then, last night, I had a dream about Boho and _I don’t even know what Boho is!_ ”

“He’s mad because I didn’t like the Pismo Dunes he wanted in the kitchen,” Buster whispered in a sotto voce.

“I thought we agreed never to say ‘Pismo Dunes’ again,” Bumgarner said, grimacing. He felt the iron grip of a headache beginning just above the bridge of his nose.

Cain leaned forward slightly. “Well. Before it comes to blows, Tim and I should probably be going…”

The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. The four men looked at each other.

“Expecting someone else?” Lincecum said.

“Not that I know of,” Buster replied, walking to the door.

“Maybe it’s Pitcher Protective Services,” Lincecum cracked. “They’ve come to save you, Big Country.”

Bumgarner and Cain chuckled.

Posey opened the door, utterly surprised to see his visitor. There was a beat between the two men as the guest looked expectantly at his host.

“Can I, uh, come in?”

“Oh, right! Yes, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect—“

“We were in town for the day, and she’s shopping up in Union Square. I thought I’d drop by and see the new place.”

“Sonuvabitch,” Lincecum said, approaching the tall, broad-shouldered gent who’d come into the living room. “Clayton, how’s it going, man?”

“Same old story. Trying to get the winter rust shaken off,” Kershaw said, shaking hands with each man in turn. “I was ready for the season to start about three days after Christmas. The cabin fever is driving me crazy.”

“I hear that,” Cain said. “Hey, didn’t they pick out a cool place?”

“It’s beautiful,” Kershaw said, taking in the room. “I’m drooling over these big windows. Look at this! I love natural light. And I bet it’s convenient to the park.”

“It is,” Buster said. “Matt and Tim were just leaving, but I could show you ar—“

Clayton suddenly loped toward a stack of color swatches. “Oh, are you guys picking out colors? Ellen and I had so much fun doing that!”

Posey looked startled. “Wait, what? You liked selecting colors?”

Kershaw knelt on the floor, looking over the various cards and booklets. “Are you kidding? That was one of the most fun parts. Are you going to go with the Mulling Spice in here?”

Bumgarner put his hands on his head. “I don’t believe it. I’m surrounded. I ain’t gonna make it out of this alive.”

Posey looked uncertain, trying to figure out if Kershaw was being genuine or just fucking with him. “We…hadn’t decided yet. This is the only room we haven’t picked a palette for yet.”

Clayton looked over some of the samples he’d picked up. He nodded at a few, turned some others over in his hand. “Nice. Nice. With all the light in here, you want something lighter toned. But you could buck tradition and pick something really bold. To counter the sunlight, you know? Of course, that would depend on your furniture, too.”

“Is anybody recording this for blackmail?” Cain whispered.

Buster studied Kershaw intently. “Hold on. Clayton, come with me.”

He grabbed Kershaw’s arm before the big ace could object. Posey led him to the opposite wall. Posey stood back, cradling his chin in his hand. Cain, Lincecum and Bumgarner joined him, their stares making Kershaw a little uncomfortable.

“What do you think?” Posey said.

“About what?” Cain asked.

Posey gestured at Kershaw. “Pitching Dodger.”

The four men squinted at Kershaw, who smiled weakly in return.

“Nope,” Bumgarner said.

Cain shook his head. “No way.”

Lincecum agreed. “Nah.”

“Why not?” Kershaw said.

“It’s obvious,” Posey replied.

Bumgarner, Posey, Cain and Lincecum said in near-unison, “Too rich.”

Kershaw flipped them off with both hands. “How about Envy Green?”

He grinned and moved toward the door. “I’d love the tour, Buster, but I’ve got to meet up with Ellen. I hope we’re invited to the housewarming.”

“Only if you bring us a yacht,” Posey said. “That’s chump change for you these days.”

“You fuckers are lucky I like you.” Clayton hugged both Bumgarner and Posey. “Hey, listen. It’s a really, really great house. I hope both of you are happy here.”

“Thanks, man,” Bumgarner said.

“We’d better get going, too,” Cain said. He hugged Buster tightly. “Try not to kill each other.”

Kershaw, Cain and Lincecum bade their goodbyes and left, chatting amiably as they headed down the street. Bumgarner closed the door behind them and turned back to face Posey.

“So, we left off at Butter Rum,” he said, shuffling toward the color cards he’d abandoned earlier. Posey grabbed his wrist and pulled him close.

“Forget about Butter Rum. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve been driving you crazy, I know. It’s all been a rush since we signed the papers. But I just want everything—“

“To be just right,” Bumgarner said. “I know. And it will be. The colors will be perfect. The furniture will be perfect. Everything will be perfect.”

“And what’s the source of all this confidence?”

Madison rested his forehead against Posey’s. “Buster, there’s something about this house that makes it special from anywhere else we’ve ever lived.”

“What’s that?”

Bumgarner smiled. “It’s ours.”

He leaned in and kissed Posey, the soft sound of hands shifting across clothing the only audible thing in the room. Posey pulled back and looked into Bumgarner’s sleepy eyes.

“It’s ours,” he said. He wanted to see how it felt to confirm it aloud. “Ours.”

It felt good.


End file.
